


the optimal condition (for birds to take flight)

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fairy Tale Curses, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Amputation, Inspired by Swan Princess, M/M, The Midnight Sun, Trapped, True Love's Kiss, Wilderness Survival, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: It had been a bad winter so far, the worst winter he had experienced up north.  He had been tempted to stay warm inside his cabin for all five hours of daylight but he knew he needed to check his few traps before whatever he’d caught had frozen solid.There was something big in his last trap.  He squinted, hardly able to see its outline as the white blended into the falling snow.  Usually, he wouldn’t catch anything bigger than an arctic fox.  This was at least twice the size.As he got closer, he realized he wasn’t seeing fur but feathers.  There, lying on the ground, neck curled up against its wings, too exhausted to startle at his approach, was a swan.AKA The Swan Princess in Northern Canada
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 151
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	the optimal condition (for birds to take flight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribbleb_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribbleb_red/gifts).



> This was written for the AFTG Mixtape event. The song I was given was [Airfield by Enter Shikari](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnGGiUkAosY). I'm not entirely certain if I can explain how I got from that song to this fic, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Andrew shivered and swung his arms to get his blood flowing. The cold was a steep price to pay for solitude, and there were times that he thought it wasn’t worth it, but every time spring arrived and he had the choice to leave his self-imposed exile, he found himself staying another year.

It had been a bad winter so far, the worst winter he had experienced up north. He had been tempted to stay warm inside his cabin for all five hours of daylight but he knew he needed to check his few traps before whatever he’d caught had frozen solid.

There was something big in his last trap. He squinted, hardly able to see its outline as the white blended into the falling snow. Usually, he wouldn’t catch anything bigger than an arctic fox. This was at least twice the size.

As he got closer, he realized he wasn’t seeing fur but feathers. There, lying on the ground, neck curled up against its wings, too exhausted to startle at his approach, was a swan.

Andrew stopped, well out of range of its beak and wings. He wasn’t sure if it even noticed he was there.

There shouldn’t be a swan here at this time of year. They had migrated south months ago. It shouldn’t have been able to survive the sub-zero temperatures and the lack of food. Yet here it was, alive, or at least recently alive.

He took another step closer and the bird moved, picking its head up off its flank to stare at Andrew. It didn’t make a sound.

Andrew took another step closer. There was a strange look in the bird’s eye, like it knew what was happening, and it was resigned to its fate. It didn’t fight or hiss, just stretched out its long neck and placed it on the ground, tired and ready to die.

Andrew slowly moved forward again. He knew he should be more cautious; swans were dangerous animals, capable of breaking a man’s leg with one well-placed wing beat, but he didn’t feel like he was in any danger from this one.

He squatted carefully and reached out to release its leg from the trap.

It didn’t move for a moment, not seeming to realize what Andrew had done, but then it got slowly to its feet, limping heavily.

Andrew backed off as quickly as he dared, but the swan didn’t chase after him, instead going off in the other direction toward a small frozen lake where Andrew fished in the summertime.

Andrew was tempted to chase after it, but the overcast sky was dimming and he estimated he had fifteen minutes before the sun set. He knew better than to stay out after dark.

* * *

Andrew was up well before the dawn, an easy feat considering dawn broke at nearly lunchtime. The day was clear and not quite as cold as the previous day had been: enough to freeze his nose hairs when he inhaled, but not enough to make his lungs ache.

The glare off the snow made him squint and he pulled down his dark goggles to protect his eyes. He gave his traps a cursory check, releasing the one rabbit he had caught, and headed straight toward the lake.

He only found the lake because there was a break in the fir trees. Otherwise, he would have walked right by it. It was covered in a nearly unbroken layer of snow. Andrew walked around the circumference of the lake. It took him little more than ten minutes. There were two sets of prints since the recent snowfall. One of them likely belonged to the swan. The other looked human. Both sets led out into the middle of the lake and then returned to shore.

There was no other sign of life anywhere around. Andrew returned to where the human footprints came on shore and followed them back into the fir trees. Minutes later, he came upon a lean-to, built among the trees. It was about five feet high at its tallest point and had been made by stacking logs from a fir tree up against a large rock. A poorly tanned deer hide was draped over the opening, stiff and nearly translucent, as a makeshift door.

Andrew drew the door back and peered inside. It was surprisingly warm compared to the outdoors. There had been a fire fairly recently. A small pit had been dug out of the frozen ground and lined with rocks. A hole in the ceiling bore marks from soot where the smoke rose. Every tiny gap in the wall was stuffed with moss. That alone told Andrew this place had been here for a while.

There was little in the way of belongings: a single blanket that likely wasn’t thick enough to protect its owner from the cold, a parka and a pair of fur-lined pants, both worn and patched multiple times, a small store of dried meat, a half-full waterskin, a mathematics textbook that had seen better days.

As Andrew looked around, a hissing sound came from behind him, startling him out of his scrutiny.

The swan stood outside the door, wings stretching to their full span, beak wide open in pure rage.

Andrew scrambled backward but there was nowhere to go; the swan was blocking the only entrance.

It didn’t advance into the lean to. It looked angry, but somehow it didn’t look wild. Operating on a hunch, Andrew took a step forward.

The swan stepped back, still hissing as furiously as ever, but not attacking.

Andrew moved slowly and carefully, continuing to move toward the door.

In a very unswanlike display, the swan shifted to the side, allowing Andrew to walk past it into daylight.

As soon as Andrew was out of the lean to, the swan moved between him and the door; still, it did not attack.

Andrew left quickly; the swan didn’t follow.

* * *

Andrew didn’t bother returning to the lake. He was living here in solitude for a reason. He had no desire to find out who lived in the lean-to, much less how and why they had a pet swan/guard dog.

They had managed to avoid each other for at least a few months. They could do it again.

Christmas was approaching. Andrew dug out his rarely used snowmobile to head south to Dawson. Nicky got antsy if he didn’t make contact every once in a while. There was a package with Christmas presents, and Andrew sat in a coffee shop for an hour or so, long enough for a Skype call to open said presents. (He didn’t call until nearly seven in the evening so Nicky had to pick up at three in the morning in Germany.) Aaron joined for a few minutes, but Andrew had also considered Aaron’s twin daughters’ bedtime when he chose what time to call, and his brother only had a little bit of time to talk before he was dragged away for storytime.

Andrew also took the opportunity to get a hotel room for the night, enjoying his first decent hot shower in months. He drove back out the next day, arriving just in time to check his traps again before dark.

He moved as quickly as possible, eager to get back home to the new can of powdered hot chocolate mix from Germany that had been included in Nicky’s package. As he walked through the forest, he flushed a raven from one of the trees, startling him. He would have been fine had his snowshoe not caught on the edge of an exposed log, sending him crashing to the ground.

He heard a snapping sound and crushing agony encompassed his arm. He screamed in pain, then started swearing loudly and continuously. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Every little shift sent fire racing along the nerves in his arm but he finally managed to dig through the snow to see what had happened. Some hunter had left an illegal trap along Andrew’s trapline and it currently had its teeth buried deep in his right forearm. The sleeve of his parka was already turning red.

Andrew breathed through his teeth, a wave of nausea almost dragging him under. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” he repeated a few more times for good measure.

The trap was a nasty one; it could only be pulled open by placing both feet on the levers on each side and prying it open with two hands. He dug down further to find the chain. The trap had been padlocked to the trunk of the tree and Andrew wasn’t going to be able to budge it.

He laughed harshly into the still air. He’d told Nicky he wasn’t going to die out here. The last thing he’d said to him was that he promised he would be safe. His family was going to hate him for this.

“FUCK!” he shouted into the forest, startling another raven from its perch.

His head was already swimming, maybe from blood loss, maybe from shock. If he wanted to survive, he had to be quick, decisive. Damn, he wished he had brought a bigger knife. He cut open the sleeve of his parka, exposing the lower part of his arm to the cold. This was going to hurt like a bitch and he would take any numbing he could get.

He was steeling himself, knife held inches from his arm, when he heard a familiar hissing noise. The swan was there, only a few feet away, wings outstretched in a threat display.

“What the fuck,” Andrew said. He didn’t have time for this. He took a deep breath and pressed the knife to his forearm, just above the trap.

The swan attacked, flying at him with flapping wings. Andrew didn’t have time to react before it had grabbed the knife in its beak and backed away. It carefully set the knife at the base of a tree, far enough away that Andrew couldn’t reach it but close enough that he wouldn’t lose it in the snow.

“Hey,” Andrew shouted hoarsely. “Bring that back.”

The swan waggled its head back and forth. It looked like it was saying no. Andrew was so confused. He must be hallucinating from the blood loss.

The swan turned and ran, back toward the small lake, leaving Andrew behind.

“Fucking bird,” Andrew yelled after it. He flopped back into the snow and began laughing hysterically. This was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him and he was going to take the secret to his frozen grave.

The sun was setting. Andrew didn’t really feel cold anymore. He thought about using his teeth instead of the knife, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was fully dark before Andrew saw a small glow approaching from the lake and heard footsteps crunching in the snow. Part of him wondered if he was still hallucinating. Darkness pulled at his consciousness, threatening to drag him under.

“I’m here to help you,” a man called quietly when he was a few feet away.

Andrew huffed, willing himself to stay awake. “Let me guess, the swan sent you?” 

The man shrugged. “Something like that,” he said, crouching beside Andrew to get a look at the trap, dim flashlight barely illuminating the area. It flickered and went out for a moment but the man smacked it three times against the palm of his hand and it came back to life.

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “This is really going to hurt.”

“More than sawing off my own arm?” Andrew asked wryly.

“I have nothing to compare it to,” the man said. “I imagine this will at least be quicker. Okay, brace yourself. I’ll pull it open on three.” He released Andrew’s arm on two.

Dimly, Andrew realized he was screaming. He lost the battle for consciousness shortly after.

* * *

When Andrew woke next, he was tucked into his bed, the weak winter sun glowing around the edge of his curtains. He had lost hours. His head ached fiercely and his entire body felt stiff and sore. He tried to move his arm and quickly gave that up as a bad idea.

Cradling his arm to his chest, he slowly dragged himself upright. The world spun lazily around him but he managed to stay on his feet. On shaky legs, he managed to get all the way to the bathroom before his legs couldn’t hold him. Gratefully, he sunk down on the toilet seat and rooted one handed through the medicine cabinet for the good painkillers. He preferred to keep those for emergencies only but he guessed this qualified.

There was no sign of a stranger in his home, although his parka, bloody and torn, was hung up neatly in the closet, and his boots were lined up by the door. If it weren’t for the fact that he was home, alive, with his hand still attached to his arm, he might have thought he had dreamed the whole thing.

He didn’t feel strong enough to prepare food but it didn’t end up mattering; a pot of game stew was sitting and simmering on the back of the stove. He served himself a bowl and took it to bed.

The rest of the day was spent drifting in and out of sleep. He should be walking his trapline, but the short trip from one end of his tiny home to the other took all the energy he had.

An hour after sunset, he heard a knock at the door. He ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. The knock came again, and a third time, before the door eased open and someone let themself into Andrew’s home.

Andrew rolled out of bed, struggling to his feet, and staggered to his bedroom door.

“Good, you’re alive,” the stranger from the night before said with a bright smile, taking off his hat. Between the blood loss, the darkness, and the pain, Andrew hadn’t gotten a good look at him. He was a little taller than Andrew, but significantly thinner. He was pale and he had dark shadows under his eyes. Greasy curls were matted to his head, dark red, although they might be lighter once his hair was washed. It looked like someone had intentionally mangled his face with both a knife and a lighter, but he had a strange charm regardless.

Andrew nodded, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

The stranger was carrying a sack over his shoulder and he set it down by the door.

“What’s that?” Andrew asked, gesturing to the sack.

“Oh, I checked your traps,” the man continued, smile never wavering, even as Andrew’s glare intensified. “There wasn’t a lot, just a couple of rabbits. Give me a minute and I’ll skin them.”

“Why?” Andrew asked.

“Well, I don't know about you, but I prefer to eat rabbits without the fur,” the man said, rolling his eyes spectacularly.

That wasn’t really the question Andrew wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how to word it. Instead, he gestured to his collection of knives.

The man selected one and picked up the sack again. “Right, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He was outside for a few minutes before returning with two freshly skinned and gutted rabbits.

“You should sit down before you fall down,” the man said as he made himself at home in Andrew’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.

“Making stew,” the man said. “I hope you don’t gag at the taste of organ meat. You could use the iron.”

Andrew shrugged and took a seat at the kitchen table. Moments later, he set his head down on the table and let the world go fuzzy. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to relax his vigilance, but if this man wanted to kill him or rob him, he could have just left him to die from exposure and blood loss.

It was oddly comforting to have someone in his home. Maybe he really had been alone for too long.

Andrew drifted for a while, only rousing when the stranger set a bowl in front of him. Andrew picked up a spoon and dug in. It was nothing exciting, but it was warm and comforting. He expected the stranger to serve himself a bowl too, but he shrugged his worn coat back on and started preparing to brave the elements.

“Where are you going?” Andrew asked.

The man faltered. “I figured I had bothered you long enough. I’ll check on you again tomorrow night, make sure your arm hasn’t turned black and fallen off.”

“Have some stew,” Andrew said, surprising himself with the invitation.

The man hesitated.

“It’s cold and late,” Andrew said. “And I saw your house. You can spend the night.”

The man was startled into a laugh. “I’ll be fine. You really don’t—”

“You saved my life,” Andrew interrupted. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man nodded shyly and pulled his jacket back off. He served himself a smaller portion of stew and sat on Andrew’s second, barely used, kitchen chair.

“What’s your name?” Andrew asked.

The man flinched. “Neil,” he said finally.

“Got a last name?” Andrew asked.

Neil shook his head. “Just Neil.”

“I’m Andrew,” Andrew offered.

Neil nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation. I’m not sure I remember how to go about it.”

“Then don’t,” Andrew said with another glare. “I didn’t say I needed you to entertain me.”

Neil smiled brightly and tucked into his stew without another word.

“I have hot chocolate,” Andrew offered awkwardly once they were both finished.

Neil made a face.

“Tea?” Andrew asked.

“What kind?” Neil asked, a wistful sort of longing on his face.

“Uh.” Andrew moved to get up but he thought better of it when he felt how weak his legs were. “My cousin just sent me a variety pack. It’s in the cupboard by the stove.”

Neil hopped up to his feet and went to investigate, eventually settling on a cup of spiced chai. He prepared Andrew some hot chocolate as well.

“I should go,” Neil said once his teacup was empty.

“Couch is free,” Andrew said gruffly.

Neil hesitated but eventually shrugged. “Okay. It might be nice to get a decent night’s sleep.”

“Uh…” Andrew paused, not sure how to phrase his next question. “Does your swan need to come in too?”

Neil looked startled for a moment, then he huffed an almost laugh. “The swan will be fine.”

Andrew nodded. “Good,” he said awkwardly. “Damn thing saved my life...and I guess my arm too. It stole my knife. It was the weirdest thing.”

Neil snapped his fingers. “Right, I almost forgot.” He went to his parka and pulled Andrew’s hunting knife out of the pocket and held the hilt out to him.

Andrew took it. “Right,” he said, shrugging. “I’m going to go to bed, but I’ve got a sleeping bag under the bed and you can borrow a pair of my sweatpants.” He carefully pulled himself to his feet, wobbling a little when he got there, but recovering quickly.

Neil got himself settled and Andrew dropped into bed, far more exhausted than he had any right to be considering how long he’d slept. By the time he awoke, light was peeking over the horizon and Neil was already gone.

* * *

Andrew half expected that was the last he’d see of Neil, but he showed up again the next night, an hour after sunset, once again with small game from Andrew’s traps. It was easier to convince him to spend the night.

Once Andrew had healed enough to walk his own trapline, he again thought that Neil might stop coming, but he continued to show up, an hour after sunset. He didn’t bring meat anymore, but Andrew couldn’t imagine asking him to stop visiting.

He didn’t really like people. They expected too much from him, whether it was emotionally or physically. Andrew knew they would eventually ask for something he couldn’t or wouldn’t give, and they would go find someone who would be what they needed. When he was a child, he’d quickly learned not to overstay his welcome. It was better for him to leave of his own accord than to be driven away.

Neil was different. Andrew wasn’t sure what Neil wanted from him. He was content to leave Andrew to his silence when he wanted it, but was a lively conversationalist when Andrew couldn’t stand to be alone. He didn’t try to force himself onto Andrew. He hadn’t even touched him since he’d dragged him back to the cabin after his accident. Andrew was sure that if he told Neil to leave and never return, he’d do it and Andrew would never see him again.

Neil never pushed. He never asked why Andrew was out in the middle of the wilderness. He seemed content with whatever Andrew was willing to give, even if all he had in him was zombie apocalypse scenarios and strange animal facts.

Months passed and they fell into a routine. The days grew longer and warmer as spring approached. Neil continued to arrive an hour after sunset and he always left well before dawn. By the middle of May, he was only getting a few hours of sleep before he would leave again.

“Where are you going?” Andrew asked, one morning. Neil had hardly laid down to sleep before he was up and getting ready to leave. Andrew hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night, afraid he would miss Neil leaving.

Neil jumped. “I have to go,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

“Why?” Andrew asked bluntly.

“Because it’s early and you’ll regret it later if you get up now,” Neil said.

“I’m not asking why I should go back to sleep,” Andrew said. “I’m asking why you have to go.”

“Don’t,” Neil said softly.

“Don’t what?” Andrew asked, frustrated. “Don’t ask.”

Neil nodded.

“You’ve been staying here every night for months and I haven’t killed you or kicked you out yet,” Andrew said, grimacing as he tried to get the words out. “I think...that makes us something...something like friends.”

“Oh,” Neil said, looking terribly vulnerable. “It does?”

Andrew hated Neil for making him admit it, but he nodded, careful not to look directly into Neil’s eyes. “I used to be in foster care,” he blurted out suddenly. “My mom put me up for adoption when I was days old. It was super fucked up because she kept my twin brother.”

Neil looked startled. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked carefully.

Andrew shrugged. “I’m not asking for your secrets and giving nothing in return.”

Neil was hesitant. “Can I think about it?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. “You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to...it’s safe.”

Neil nodded. He pulled his hat low over his forehead and put on his gloves, leaving without a word.

Andrew leaned against the door, cursing himself. It would serve him right if Neil never came back. He shouldn’t have pushed. It would hurt, like pressing on a bruise, if Neil stayed away. He went back to bed.

Andrew rose late. It was hard to summon the energy to do anything. He dragged himself out once to check his traps, but most of the day was spent watching the clock as the sun crawled across the sky.

It wasn’t long before dark when a knock sounded at the door. It had to be Neil. Andrew very carefully didn’t rush to open the door, not wanting to appear too eager.

It wasn’t Neil; the swan was back. It looked up at him and jerked its head.

“What the fuck?” Andrew said.

The swan took a few steps away from the door and looked back at Andrew expectantly. When Andrew didn’t move, it came back and grasped his pant leg in its beak, tugging gently.

Andrew was mystified, but he went back inside, pulled on his parka and the rest of his winter gear, grabbed a flashlight, and followed the swan into the cold.

It led him back to the lake where he’d first found Neil’s house. At first, he was concerned that Neil was injured and had sent the swan to find him, but the swan seemed unhurried. First, it went to Neil’s little lean-to and dragged a bundle of winter clothing out the door.

Andrew watched, bemused, as it went back to the lakeshore, pulling the winter clothing behind it. They reached the shore; it hissed at him when he tried to step onto the ice, so he stood on the bank and waited. The last daylight began to fade from the sky.

The moment darkness had fallen, a brilliant flash of light from the centre of the lake blinded him. When he blinked the tears from his eyes, the swan was gone, and in its place was Neil, struggling to dress himself in the cold.

Andrew didn’t call out to Neil, just waited for him to get properly dressed and walk off the lake. Neil took his time and, when he finally stepped onto the shore, he had trouble meeting Andrew’s eyes.

“So,” Andrew said, “are you a swan who is sometimes a human or a human who is sometimes a swan?”

Neil laughed, clearly surprised. “Human. I’ve only been a part-time swan since last summer.”

Andrew nodded. “You know, I was really impressed when I thought you had managed to train a swan.”

Neil shrugged. “So, now you know.”

Andrew shivered lightly. “It’s cold,” he said. “I think this conversation might be better over a cup of tea.”

Neil’s shoulders slumped a little, and he smiled softly. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

“I found my brother when we were twelve years old,” Andrew began once they were back in the warmth of his house with hot beverages in front of them. “Well, he found me. One of the police officers working with CPS saw him at a game and thought he was me. Aaron got him to send me a letter so we could meet.”

Neil nodded and took a sip of his steaming tea. The silence stretched between them when Andrew didn’t say any more.

“I’m cursed,” Neil said.

Andrew snorted.

“Like, literally cursed,” Neil said, rolling his eyes at Andrew’s amusement. “My dad’s right hand is a witch and she put this spell on me. During the day, I’m a swan, and at night, I regain my true form. I can only transform in the middle of that lake, and if I’m not there at time of transformation, I become a swan forever.”

“How do people come up with this shit?” Andrew asked, shaking his head.

Neil shrugged.

“Is there a cure?” Andrew asked.

Neil rolled his eyes. “True love’s kiss.”

Andrew squinted, trying to see if Neil was making fun of him.

“I’m serious,” Neil said. “Lola gloated about it when she helicoptered me up here. She thought it was the funniest fucking thing, that the only thing that could save me was making a real human connection when I’d probably never see another living soul.”

Andrew grimaced. “Wow, fuck her.”

Neil nodded. “Yeah, it seemed pretty hopeless, but then I met you.”

Andrew felt like he had been plunged into cold water. His lungs stuttered and his heart squeezed in his chest. “What?” he asked.

Neil’s face went red. “Not that I think you should kiss me or that I’m your true love,” he said quickly. “I just thought I was going to be alone forever, but I’m not. I’ve never really been good at solitude. Growing up, if I was alone, I was hiding, or being punished.”

“Ah,” Andrew said, trying to regain his composure before Neil realized how much he was panicking.

“I’m glad you’re here, that’s all,” Neil said, looking at Andrew in a way that simultaneously made him want to melt into a puddle on the floor and go kick something for an hour or two.

Andrew didn’t do either. He drained his cup of tea and stood. “Goodnight,” he said before escaping to his room and shutting Neil out.

* * *

It was different after that point. While things had never been particularly awkward between them, there was a new level of ease that Andrew didn’t even know he wanted. They talked about real things sometimes. Neil told him about his fucked up past and Andrew reciprocated, telling him things that he’d never told anyone else before.

Andrew had never been comfortable with physical touch. The first time he had touched Neil, it was an afterthought, placing a hand on his shoulder to get past him in Andrew’s small kitchen.

Neil had tensed up at first, then relaxed suddenly, almost falling into Andrew with a dazed look on his face. He had pulled away with an apology but Andrew had realized that Neil was suffering without human touch.

Carefully, he stepped over his own boundaries, brushing Neil’s shoulders or back when they passed each other, touching Neil’s shoulder briefly when he returned to the house at night, allowing Neil to tuck his cold toes under Andrew’s thigh when they sat on the couch, and eventually, allowing Neil to spend his few short hours of sleep in the bed at Andrew’s side.

Neil had started spending time with him as a swan, walking along beside him as he walked his trapline or sitting beside him while Andrew fished. Andrew was glad of the company but it wasn’t quite the same as a living, breathing Neil in bed beside him.

June began and Neil no longer had time to come back to the house between sunset and sunrise. The sun hardly dipped below the horizon, leaving them in a state of twilight for most of the night. Andrew began taking tea in a thermos so Neil could warm up for a little before turning back into a swan. They huddled together in Neil’s tiny lean-to, taking what little time they had before Neil transformed once more.

“I’m ready for the days to get shorter again,” Andrew said one night as Neil snuggled into his side and sipped his tea. “I miss human you.”

Neil tensed and buried his face in Andrew’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew asked.

Neil sighed. “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how.”

“What?” Andrew asked, alarmed.

“I’m running out of time,” Neil admitted.

Andrew’s blood went cold. “What do you mean, ‘you’re running out of time?’”

“The isolation wasn’t the only reason Lola chose this lake,” Neil said, his voice small. “She could have dropped me off in the middle of the Amazon or on a deserted island.”

“Then why here?” Andrew asked, pulling Neil tighter.

“We’re in the land of the Midnight Sun and the summer solstice is approaching,” Neil said. “The swan gets stronger the longer I’m in that form. If I stay too long, I won’t be able to transform back.”

“And the sun won’t set on the summer solstice,” Andrew said. “Are you sure that’s what will happen? If you spend the whole day with me, if I remind you who you are—”

“It won’t be enough,” Neil said. “Lola was very clear on the conditions for the curse. If I don’t transform within 24 hours of my last transformation, it’s over.”

“Neil,” Andrew whispered.

Neil shivered and burrowed closer. Andrew was hyper aware of every second with Neil, now that he knew there were so few of them left.

“I don’t even know if I know how to love someone,” Andrew said into the stillness.

“It’s okay, Andrew,” Neil said, shifting to look at Andrew. “You don’t have to. I resigned myself a long time ago that no one was ever going to truly love me.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew said. “I want to.”

Neil smiled sadly. “The sun is going to rise, I should go.”

Andrew couldn’t watch him transform. He sat in Neil’s lean-to, arms wrapped around his knees, until the sun was high in the sky.

* * *

They spent the next two nights in silence. The time was flying by. Neil was sad and Andrew didn’t know what to say to make it better. He had been perfectly content in his isolation for years before Neil arrived, but it was too late to go back. The loss of Neil would always be an open wound. He was the first thing Andrew knew he couldn’t lose.

The third night, once again snuggled up and passing a thermos of tea between them, Andrew took a deep breath before turning to Neil. “I want to kiss you,” he said in a rush.

“You don’t have to,” Neil said, sitting up and moving away from Andrew.

“You don’t want to?” Andrew asked.

“ _You_ don’t want to,” Neil said. “You said you can’t love me and I’ve accepted that.”

Andrew looked at Neil, holding his gaze firmly, feeling like he was being flayed alive, bared completely in front of him. “If I’m gonna love anyone,” he said carefully, “it’s gonna be you, Neil.”

“Oh,” Neil said. “I hoped—”

“You didn’t say anything,” Andrew said.

“I couldn’t,” Neil said. “I didn’t want to ask for more from you than you could give.”

“You’re not asking,” Andrew said. “I’m offering.”

“Okay,” Neil said. “Okay. Yes.”

“Yes?” Andrew asked.

“Yes, I want to kiss you,” Neil replied, leaning in.

Andrew met him half way. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He didn’t believe in fireworks, but this was better, like he had been grounded his entire life and he was just now discovering the meaning of flight.

They could see the sky growing brighter through the open door but neither of them pulled back. If this didn’t work, Andrew was going to savor every moment he had left.

Eventually, their kisses slowed and stopped. They sat in the lean-to, foreheads pressed together, sharing each other’s air.

“Is it dawn?” Neil asked, breathless and worried, eyes squeezed shut.

Andrew looked out the door of the lean-to. A sliver of sun was peeking over the horizon through the trees, and Neil was still human. He nodded, then laughed, tears welling up in his eyes.

Neil pulled away and smiled at him, far more brilliant than the rising sun. “What now?” he asked.

Andrew thought for a moment. “I think...I told you about my brother in South Carolina.”

Neil nodded.

“It might be time to pay him a visit,” Andrew said.

“Oh,” Neil replied, looking a little disappointed.

“Will you come with me?” Andrew asked, worrying his lip with his teeth.

“Yeah,” Neil breathed.

“I think it’s time for both of us to leave loneliness behind,” Andrew said, getting to his feet. He put out his hand to help Neil up. “Come home with me?”

Neil nodded and took his hand. Together, they stepped out into the sunlight.


End file.
